


Moving Down the Line

by Knightqueen



Series: Taxes, Death and Trouble [1]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Character of Color, F/M, Female Character of Color, Interracial Relationship, Rating: PG13, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightqueen/pseuds/Knightqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between "The Good Samaritan" and "The Alchemist". Meera Malik deals with the blacksite invasion by keeping it to herself, Donald just wants to talk to her without being treated like a suspect. Resslik.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Down the Line

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The Blacklist and all things related are property of Jon Bokenkamp and NBC. If I owned it, the show would probably be a far better state than it is now.

* * *

The aftermath of the blacksite's compromise left a sense of trust shuttered. It appeared Donald would have to watch the budding connection between hisself and Meera dissipate under the scrutiny of interrogation and compartmentalized information. Meera semed to move to and fro as freely as she was before a shotgun left him hobbling with a cane.

She was limited in some areas (particularly with NSA and her own organization), but it was scratch compared the complete isolation he was experiencing. No one outside of Aram would tell him anything, and that was primarily because Aram was in the same situation as him and Liz.

He, on the other hand, was on the outside of the situation, perhaps thought less trust worthy because of where the situation put him. What Cooper told Meera, Meercat "wasn't at liberty" to tell him. And with almost nothing work-related to talk about, she didn't appear all that compelled to talk to him beyond a brief inquiry of his leg's healing progress.

If their profiler was doing her job, he'd be considered a "risk". He held a certain sympathy for the devil and all that jazz. Instead, she was preoccupied with her own troubles, primarily concerning Reddington, whom she was protecting from everyone to the detriment of their innocence. He went through two clearance checks; they practically turned his bag inside out whenever he arrived.

If cooperating with Keen meant they were that much closer to clearing their names, no matter how unconventional, he'd comply with whatever trickery she was naively complying with in the name of her mark's protection. His own organization certainly wasn't working to get the job done beyond interrogation tactics.

Meera, however, appeared to take his compliance as a mark of trust and removed herself further from their situation unless to cooperate in an investigation. Perhaps on some subconscious level, it was a sign of trust. The man did save his life after all. Pride be damned, he owed him - and Liz - something.

* * *

Meera lived in a state of discontent and frustration. Paranoia flew out the window when bullets reigned down her and she was forced to take refuge in the armory. She'd lost her cool. She barely hit anyone because she was worried about how things would fall on her end once the smoke cleared. No sooner than she sent those blueprints out, this happened. In the shadows of her profession she watched strangers and 'friends' fall in the name of the highest bidder and the man presumably responsible for it all was the one she trusted the most.

In all of her silence she tried to make sense of her role in the grand scheme of things and bit her tongue until it felt would split. She lied and flashed her teeth to anyone who thought they could chew through her defenses. It was a game of tick-tack-toe and with Reddington and Cooper. Her personal freedom and the safety of her children was the achievement, but there was nothing she detested more than an uncooperative party.

And at the moment, Ressler, Reddington and Keen were being uncooperative. Evasive, really. Cooper wouldn't even suggest that what she did had anything to what transpired. And as the blood was washed from the walls and her face, she put a fair distance between herself and the others, her role as the outsider playing out like second nature.

She needed space to figure things out. Yet, her determination to stick to playing silent was made a little impossible when Ressler, against the better judgment of his physician, hobbled his way back into work, grown bored of the stillness almost in spite of his ex-lover's company.

The only thing she had to call her companion was a cold drink and the reassurance that she was doing everything in her power to protect her family. She had no one to lean on and likely would never again if she was made as the leak.

What a travesty of affairs.

She wasn't even sure if it was wise to consider Donald a viable option anymore with Audrey Bidwell back in the picture. The charming and effeminate young woman wasn't someone she could say she hated; if anything what she felt when she met her wasn't hate, but a sort of pity. Audrey reminded her of Emerson. Audrey reminded her the day that he returned and asked if he could have a moment of her time, his way of testing the waters of possibility.

Audrey wanted something Ressler and if it was anything like what her daughters wanted from her and Emerson, the ex in her begrudgingly wished her luck while Single Meera just wanted her to go back to wherever she came from. Meera had other things to worry about than who Ressler chose to be with.

His second day back at work, she was situated in front of the computer, finger tapping against her cheek, browsing through old information Kalinda had given her on Cooper.

She pretended not to notice him until he was practically toward her person. He was either hiding a planet under that jacket of his or decided that lilac was his preferred cologne. "Malik," His voice was low and husky. Meera looked up, feigning disinterest. "Agent Ressler, working the afternoon shift?"

"I overslept," Donald admitted. "Then I couldn't find my cane."

She watched his expression go from hopeful to disappointed. Under the sleeve of his free arm, she spotted a single white tulip. "Flowers? From the missus?" She reached over and pulled the tulip from his sleeve. "No, that was for you," He answered. "I was gonna leave it on the locker, but I wanted to talk to you."

"Later," She said.

"Okay," He stood a little straighter. "When's later?"

Meera pushed away from the counter. She cleared her browsing history and closed the browser. Donald's blue eyes wandered from the screen over to her, the telltale signs of his brow wrinkling. "Why are you looking at Cooper's file?"

"Covering my bases," She wasn't trying to hide what she was doing, but it didn't mean she had to be up front with what she was doing. Not with him, not right now.

"You think he had something to do with the raid?" He decided to be upfront with where the conclusion he ran into. Meera shrugged her shoulders. "I've no idea what you mean," Reaching into her pocket she revealed a pair of keys. Donald regarded the tiny frog hanging on the key chain. "Aren't those Indra's?"

"They are," She reached over and grasped his hand. His skin tingled at her touch. The keys pressed into the palm of his hand, he closed his fingers over them. "If you aren't busy with Ms. Bidwell, I'll be home later."

"Meera, I'm not-" Meera turned away and took the tulip from off the table. She departed without another word.

Elizabeth walked into room, file in hand, and found Ressler standing with his fist closed over something and Meera gathering her coat from the other side of the room, tulip sticking out of her purse. "Hey, Meera."

The CIA agent turned in response, hair masking one side of her face. "Yup?"

"Who's the guy that got on your bad side?"

Her brow wrinkled. "I don't understand."

"White tulips, they signify forgiveness or apology. I've gotten a ton from Tom after we get into fights," She smiled nostalgically.

Meera looked down at the tulip but was careful not to spare Ressler a look. "I dunno, found it at my desk and figured someone was trying to be nice," Meera shrugged.

"Hmm, must be a secret admirer," Elizabeth grinned.

"Maybe," Meera said.

* * *

His present disability made climbing the stairs to Meera's lofty home a challenge. The slanted stairs threw off his precarious balance and the cracks in the concrete offered far too many opportunities for his cane to get caught and send him face-first into the ground. When he reached the door he fished the key from his inner pocket. The tiny frog stared back at him with judgmental eyes. Meera inviting him to her home, with her daughter's key no less, meant her kids were back home with her parents. In light of recent of events, he didn't blame her for sending them far out of the immediate reach of their enemies, whoever they were.

The key slipped into the hole and he turned, listening to the bolt slide back without protest. Opening the door, he saw the living room was looking just a little better than before. "Meera?" He called into the living room.

"Upstairs, I'll be a moment," Meera's voice drifted up from the stairs in front of him. Closing the door behind him, he shrugged his jacket off, shifting his weight to balance his good leg. The coat flopped to the ground, he hung the frog keys on the coat rack beside him. He fooled about his tie for a moment then let it lie. Gripping the head of his cane, Donald walked toward the sofa bed that currently lay stretched out and slept in.

The house wasn't being repaired, so he couldn't fathom why she was sleeping on the first floor, if she was. "What was it that you wanted to talk about?" Meera's voice seemed to materialize from nowhere. "About the investi-" Donald turned and stopped mid-sentence. Meera was approaching him in a SpongeBob square pants t-shirt and leggings. She walked past him and sat on the far end of the sofa couch. "-gation, yeah," He finished. Meera looked up, he smiled slightly with appreciative nod of his head.

"Where's Audrey?"

"Hopefully, home with her fiancé," Donald remarked. "Fiancé?" Meera repeated.

"Yeah, didn't I tell you? She's engaged to somebody else." He gave her a look that told her she was worried no reason. "She just came to see if I was alright. I had her listed as my "next of kin"."

"Because of your engagement."

"Former engagement, but yes."

Meera shrugged her shoulders, at a momentary loss at what to do with her arms beyond folding them defensively across her chest. "I may have been a little premature in my assumption," She said.

"A little?" Donald raised an eyebrow.

 _Alright a lot._ She didn't feel like verbalizing that at the moment, however. "Aram, myself and Cooper were cleared of any suspicion, if you're wondering," She told him, ignoring his last comment.

Donald watched her rearrange the sheets on the bed, likely out of distraction.

"Good for you. Why were you browsing Cooper's files?"

"Again, I've no idea what you mean," She replied.

"Meera I saw you on the computer," Donald protested. "You can't say you weren't looking at his file."

"I plead the fifth," Meera responded.

"Of course you do," He remarked, irritated. "Have you heard anything about me and Liz?"

"Last I checked, you're still listened as "under investigation"."

"Naturally," Donald grumbled. "Wish they'd give it a rest. They're not gonna find anything."

"Because you're not doing anything wrong, right?"

She sat on the bed with a dramatic flop.

"We're not doing anything wrong, Meera. If anything, we're cooperating like a pair of saints."

"Well, that's for them to decide, Ressler," Meera replied, patting the bed down. "How's the leg treating you?"

"The same as the last time you asked. Alright considering I almost lost it."

"You're a very lucky man in that regard, Res-"

"Donald," Donald interjected. "Call me Donald, Meera. Please?"

Meera regarded him with some reservation. She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. "Sit down, Donald." Donald stared down at where her hand lay, fingers spread against the sheets. He considered his knees and the height of the bed. "It's a bit low for me, Meercat."

"Would you prefer going upstairs?" The laughter in her tone was evident. Thinking of going upstairs was far more daunting a prospect than a sitting on a low bed. As though to protest, but conceding to her previous request, Donald allowed himself to drop onto the mattress. The muscle in his leg jumped in response to the pressure, pain up and down his leg like it was looped. One hand gripped the head of the cane, the other gripped his thigh.

Meera, rocking with the motion created by his body, eyed him with some concern. "That looked like it hurt," She stated rather than asked. Donald nodded stiffly, lips straining in a smile. "It does," He tried to stay perfectly still as the pain dissipated gradually.

Raising her fingers to lips she bit down on the edge of her thumb. Donald watched her, curious. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just thinking of old habits," Meera said. "Before I had Deeva, I used to smoke. I smoked when I was nervous, stood on the rooftops and puffed until I couldn't stand the smell."

"What were you nervous about?"

"My job, which is, in part, why I had to quit. Most of the profiles given to me weren't given leeway to smoke," She said. "They believed a behavioral pattern could be connected if I didn't kick the habit." She chewed her bottom lip. "Anyone who tells you this is an easy job is lying."

There's a part of him that wants to vocalize his agreement; a simple 'I know' to counter the sting that made him assume that she was belittling his position. Her hand moves away from mouth down to her chest. It's the first time he notices she's wearing the necklace he gave her. Meera's expression is absolute despondence, her fingers rub the chain together like a rabbit's foot, hoping to conjure some sense of solace. "Meera what's wrong?"

"Beyond our current situation?" She shook her head. "I'm worried for the girls."

Donald cast short look about the living room. "Where are they?"

"The day of the raid, I just saw them off at the airport," She said. "They're back home, but I haven't called them."

"But, they're safe, right?"

"God willing."

"Does Emerson know-?"

"No one beyond everyone in the blacksite and Fowler knows anything about the leak," Meera interjected. "But, knowing my ex, he'll find out eventually and I'll never hear the end of it."

"He wouldn't actually blame you? This isn't your fault."

"Of course not," Meera nearly snapped, the irony of her words hitting worse than she liked to let on. She ran a hand across her face, dragging her hair behind her shoulders. "I'd be silly to think this was my fault. I'm- rattled, I guess. Spooked."

This wasn't a side to Meera he'd ever seen. Trauma after something they went through was given. Their line of work practically came packaged with. But, one the things he assumed Meera was, was someone who functioned not unlike himself. If it bothered her, she ignored it, never let anyone see it.

"We lost a lot of good people that day."

"I know."

"I almost thought you'd be among them."

"So did I."

He'd come home to Audrey some days and despite knowing he could find some level of solace with her, he bottled himself up and shielded her from his vulnerability. Instead, Meera sat before him, brown eyes alight with tears, her expression the very picture of a heartbroken woman.

"This isn't just about your kids, is it?" He asked.

She shook her head, a stray tear free-fell down her cheek. "Not really," She gave a halfhearted laugh.

"And it's not about me, right?"

Now Meera was starting blink rapidly, as if it would stop her tears. "Not entirely."

His first instinct was shield himself, swallow his own response and let her be.

But she was asking and right now, he was willing to give. He pulled himself closer until there was little space between them. Meera felt her breath hitch when his hands cupped her face, the warmth of his palms made her face tingle. He remained perfectly still for a moment, just watching her. Meera almost seemed confused as to why until she averted her gaze and pressed her face against his cheek.

His thumbs moved gently in a circular motion on her cheeks. She closed her eyes when he leaned in, his eyelashes fluttered against her check. His lips pressed against hers, the taste of salt tingled on his tongue. Reaching up she grasped both his hands with her own. Meera bit the inside of her mouth as his mouth moved down to her chin. "Ressler…"

"Hmm?" He slowed the progression of his mouth, pausing on the base of her neck. Her skin prickled from the spike of heat that struck her core as he began to suckle. "Ressler, wait," She said.

He stopped, pulling away, he opened his eyes. Glassy eyes were staring at him, expecting. "About what I said? About this being more than-"

"You don't have to tell me unless you want to," Donald interjected. "Do you?"

She shrugged her shoulders, feeling a little hapless for bringing it back up. "I don't know."

"Then let me know when you're ready," He closed his hands around hers, Meera took marginal comfort in the circular motion his thumb was making on her knuckles. "I don't think the kids have anything to worry about. Not with a mom like you to protect them."

Her chest swelled with frustration as she allowed the compliment to sink in. "That's sweet of you to say, Donald," She said, bowing her head.

"I meant it."

His sincerity was killing her.

"C'mere."

Meera pulled herself further onto the bed and closer to Donald. Without really thinking about it, Donald moved to hug her. What he got was her waist. Meera was kneeling on the bed, trying to regain her composure. Embarrassed, titled his head to get a better look at her. She steadied herself, hands on her shoulders. Donald's cane stood idle between his legs, his hands pressed down into mattress, his shoulders rotated when her fingers pulled his jacket from his shoulders and made short work of his tie. "You should think of doing this before we get into bed," She grumbled, working at unfastening his buttons.

"I like it when you tear my shirt off," He joked.

"Literally or metaphorically?"

He thought for a moment. "Literally."

Meera's fingers slipped through the opening between his dress shirt and yanked. Buttons popped away from his person, Donald's shirt came apart to reveal a tank top. Donald didn't hold back his laugh at her disappointment. "You wear too many shirts, Agent Ressler," She said, pushing him back on the bed.

* * *

Donald was pretty sure it was still the dead of night when he heard her cell phone ringing somewhere near his head. He moved to pull her closer, knowing she'd just get up and answer it, but the mass against his chest was far softer than any human body.

Opening his eyes he stared down at the mount that was undoubtedly her pillow, he pushed it away. He looked up toward the dim light coming off from the right. Meera was already up and refastening her bra. "Hey," Even in the dark, she could see the shared disappointment on his face. "What are you doing up?"

"I have to run an errand," Meera explained. "Go back to sleep."

"At this-" He spared a glance at his wrist watch. Pressing the button on the right side of the watch's head revealed the time, 2:06am. "At two in the morning?"

"It can't wait, I'll be back before the sun is up," Meera promised, grabbing her t-shirt. Donald wanted to tell her that he'd be gone before the sun was up, but she was already moving toward the door. "Meera-"

"I'll be back," Was all she said. Donald watched her grab her jacket off the coat hanger and step out the door.

Donald was still lying on the sofa bed when she returned home. He was usually gone around this time. It was quite past the three o'clock hour, that's usually when he found the time to crawl out of bed and drag himself back to his apartment to sleep for another hour and half before coming to work to pretend nothing happened between them.

She was really beginning to question why they were skirting around everyone's back like a couple teenagers. It's not like there was rule against dating your co-workers hanging over their heads.

He was pretending to be sleep when she crawled back into bed. She turned to face and draped one leg over his and an arm over his broad waist. Donald shifted in bed so that his chin was resting gently on her head. "I figured you'd be gone," She mumbled.

"I thought about it, but changed my mind," Donald said. "How'd your errand go?"

"Uneventfully," Meera replied. "The market was out of Desani water."

"You went out to get specialized water?"

"Shut up and go to sleep," Meera sighed, pressing her face against his chest. Donald wrapped his arm around her and closed his eyes.

"Meera?"

"Donald?"

"About what happened-"

She stiffened. "Donald, not now."

"I just want to say this," He insisted. When she relaxed against him, he continued. "You know I didn't- I would never compromise everyone by trusting a creep like Anslo, right?"

There was a moment where Meera considered answering frankly; that she didn't know that he wouldn't trust someone like Anslo Garrick, but she thought better of it.

"I wouldn't do anything that make you worry about your girls like this."

"Of course, I know," She answered after a moment. Uncomfortable with facing him, she turned so that her back was against him. He didn't seem to mind. "You're a good man, Ressler. God and country."

* * *

**FIN.**


End file.
